Humanland
by wunderlande
Summary: *DEAD* Let's take things from the zombies' point-of-view 'cause I see a lot of surviving idiots doing things wrong. And I'm here to teach them the right way to do this.
1. Rule18

Now featuring a short little chapter fic (But not the big chapter fic I promised to release, like, months ago. Though I might give a sneak peek to see if people will actually like it.)!

This is a parody of many zombie movies and zombie stories of this very fandom. Yes, it also takes from Zombieland, which did not agree with me, leading me to not really like it.

If any of the rules seem familiar, I'll be honest: I took them a Cracked article. I wanted to write that article out in a fanfiction, and this is the result!

There will be six rules in all and I hope to finish them up quickly this winter since MY FINALS ARE DONE ON FRIDAY! ;_; This is the first rule. I have the second one done and might upload it tomorrow. Enjoy! Oh, and it's Craig's POV.

(Warning: this is a parody, in 'haha' funny. Please do not become offended, since I love zombie movies and stories but just find some to be ridiculous.)

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><p>Humanland<p>

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><p><strong>Rule # 18<strong>

**No melee.**

It's questionable to whether viruses are alive or not, but either way, they still had to bury bodies infected with Ebola. So if you have an open wound caused by your running away from me and decide to bash my friend's head in with your baseball bat, good luck with that.

I stumble over something in the dark and feel one of my rib bone break when I fall. I sigh since this is the third time it's happened. I honestly don't understand why I've not completely fallen away by now. Some kind of Hollywood magic, I guess. I push myself back up and watch this scene happening in front of me of a girl and her, I suppose, boyfriend duke it out with a buddy of mine. Well, 'buddy' used in a loose way.

The girl is covered with cuts due to mistakenly wearing shorts and bleeding a fair amount of blood on her ripped blouse. The guy has a bent baseball bat which he paired with his red baseball cap of some high school's team. Other than his cap and bat, nothing says 'high school baseball player' to me, despite the fact that he probably is, or was, one. They both have backpacks on them which, by the way, is a no-no; it's important to carry items but never carry them on your back, else we grab and pull you towards us. Plus you could get caught while crawling under a fence; I've seen it happen one too many times.

The male of the Deadnamic Duo bashes my friend's head in with a good swing. Maybe he is a baseball player. Blood splatters all over them, especially on the girl and in her cuts, if I'm allowed to focus on her. She screams out on impact and then cries. The guy goes to comfort her with the bloody bat still in his hand. As she cries into his shoulder, I roll my eyes and walk away before I'm next. But I decide to keep a close eye on them, hoping to test out my theory.

I watch them move about the city for a few days, since it didn't take too long for something interesting to happen.

They trek along in the darkness, which is another mistake. Always go out in the daylight and you'll have the upper hand in any ambushes. But mind you, not in the middle of the day. Perhaps dawn would be better. Anyways, they walk along and search around for supplies and food and water. They sleep in abandoned buildings and take rests every three hours. It's annoying to follow them for so long, but I have nothing better to do. It all goes well until Day Three.

"Rob, Rob, please, I feel so bad right now. I'm gonna throw up." She leans over, clutching her stomach tightly. Bile threatens to run up her throat and on the dry ground. She sits down and says 'screw you' to her white shorts as dust is tossed into the air. Breathing and sweating heavily, she starts to cry.

"Megan, stay with me, Baby." Robert kneels down to comfort her.

Hey, Rob, I'm gonna throw up too; comfort me.

She pushes him away and puts a hand to her mouth. "No, don't! I don't want you to die, Babe." Abruptly shooting up, Meg stumbles backward in pain and her entire body convulses. Her breathing gets heavier and louder as she keeps stumbling.

Rob backs away, still on his knees. He wants to run, but he can't leave her like this. Bad mistake, _Babe_.

Meg stops. Her hands fall to her sides and her eyes glaze over, making them glossy and dead. She bares her yellow teeth in a snarl and screams out a warning cry before launching herself at her boyfriend.

Rob does nothing but cry a girlish cry and fall to his back as his girlfriend kisses- I mean mauls his throat with her canines. He screams the entire time as his blood gushes on the desert floor and the sand soaks it up, thanking him for his nutrients.

I turn away; I know the feeling of wanting to stop but not be able to because of animal instincts. I know how Meg is feeling: overwhelmed, in pain, betrayed by her emotions; I should know, I've been there before, and it's a feeling I never want to experience again.

Meanwhile Rob is feeling pain. Extreme pain.

I smirk and walk away back to the city.


	2. Rule9

Okay, next rule!

This'll start to show a little bit of the romance listed in the genre. And the obvious couple here is Creek!

The next rule will be out soon? I hope...

Enjoy.

(Haha! My first second chapter ever! Congratulate me! |:D)

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><p>Humanland<p>

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><p><strong>Rule # 9<strong>

**Walk instead**

Roads will be blocked if you decide that walking is too much of a hassle. Your best bet to just go by foot.

America was getting a lot fatter later on in the years; hell, some people made a living out of being fat and going on a diet 'cause this is America, land of the brave, free, and idiots- I mean, idiots.

Wait.

No, I meant idiots. Anyways, by the time the Apocalypse happened, half of the people who got turned into zombies were the size of whales, with more blubber than meat. And you want to know why?

I'll tell you: nobody decided to _walk_ out of the cities. They all _drove_ out like dumbasses who don't understand traffic. I remember being stuck in the blazing heat of summer with the air conditioning broken, since my father was too lazy to get it fixed.

"Dad, come on. Honking won't solve shit!" I lean back and cross my arms, hoping my angsty teenager pose would move him enough to do something useful for once in his life.

"Hey, watch your language, boy!" He reaches up and twists the mirror until I'm in the reflection. (What can I tell you?: Lazy fatasses.) "It's my car, and I'll honk all day if I have to!" To demonstrate he slams his fist in the center of the steering wheel and a loud honk explodes in the air. Leaning out the window while repeating his action, he yells, "Move it, ya'll got me? Stinking Asian drivers!"

In front of our car, I can see Kevin Stoley's entire family look out their car windows and glare at us.

Ruby pops her bubblegum bubble and fast forwards all her songs on her MP3 until she gets to something she likes. "Why can't I bust my eardrums with this stupid iPod?" She pushes her earbuds into her ears and leans forward until her cheeks touches her knees.

"Stay here. I'm going out." I doubt she could hear me, but she nods and makes a shooing motion with her hand.

I walk around the other cars that also honk impatiently as traffic doesn't move. When I spot Tweek's parents' car, I rush up ahead to meet them. As usual, most of their car is filled with bags of coffee beans and a box filled with coffee grinders and makers. I hope zombies enjoy coffee, that way they can't kill Tweek's family if they want some; I doubt zombies (or even when they weren't zombies) could figure the mechanism to coffee makers.

"Yo, Tweek." I do a quick wave to the open window and stick my head in. The smell of hazelnut is so strong, I quickly pull out. "Wanna come out here instead, man?" I say, taking several (several, several, several) steps back.

"I can't do that! What if there are zombies around, Craig? Gah- you better get inside before they get you!" Tweek attempts to open the door, but the child locks his parents (and I) put on are still on. "Oh, God, I can't get this open." He pulls the door handle again as I walk closer to the car. As he sees me, he scoots back, "Here, climb in the window!"

I stare at him in horror and confusion. I put a hand in the car and ask him to take it. When he questions me, I keep insisting that it'll help me if he held my hand. Naively believing me, I grip his wrist as like I was holding a baseball bat again and yank him out of the window. I catch him before he falls flat on his face and smile. "Oops, my bad. Guess I put too much strength in that pull, he?"

His arms shake as they try to detangle from mine. "You did th-that on purpose!" He starts to panic when he realises he's out in the open. "Ng- No, I can't be out here! Let me back in!" He attempts to wriggle out of my hold, but I refuse to let him go.

"Tweek, come on! It's not that bad out here!"

He tries to claw at my face. "Let me go, Craig!"

"Tweek!" I dodge his nails and frown.

His parents watch with mouths wide open and in shock.

I stare at them in apology, leaving myself open to a kitty surprise. "Ow!" I almost drop Tweek as he stares in horror at my face which begins to bleed. I let him go and move my hands to my right cheek; it's damp with blood, and Tweeks looks as though he wants to cry.

"Oh, God, Craig! I-I'm sorry! I d-d-didn-" He stutters too much and contorts his face in his crying face. He breaks down and cries like a little, scolded toddler; he has the same pose, too.

"Tw-Tweek, I'm fine! It's okay!" I take a step closer and embrace him. He continues to cry anyways, and it's only until late in the day does he and the bleeding stop. "Are you okay?" I ask as he hiccups.

Nodding, he wipes his misty face and sniffles. Tweek refuses to look me in the eye.

I gently take his hand and walk to the front of his parents' car.

They stare with the same look as we climb on the car roof. We used to do this all the time when junior year started in order to watch the sunset.

It was setting right then, letting out an arrangement of orange and red in the sky.

Tweek sits between my legs and I wrap my arms around his waist and set my head on his. It's peaceful, quiet, and tranquil; an escape from the horrors that began and ruined our lives; it was something I could and never would give up. I could have sat there forever, careless to any zombies or honk or haters, and I know Tweek could have as well because this is our moment and absolutely no-one could mess it up right no-

"Hey, faggots, get off your car and start driving!" Dad yells out his window as he honks multiple times.

My then-closed eyes shoot open in irritation. Motherfu- "Dad, it's me!" I spin around and grimace at him. If this was a cartoon, steam would be blowing out of my ears.

His angry look falls quickly and he replaces it with an 'oh, my bad' face. He whistles and rolls up the window as he inches the car back.

God dammit.


End file.
